He'd never been good at resisting impulses. Tanner twined that strand of hair around his finger. He waited for her to object, shove him away, twist his pinky again.
She didn't move, just stood looking as confused as he felt. He drew her forward with a gentle tug to the lock of hair.
Still no objection.
Tanner let her hair slither free and traced his knuckles over her cheek, along her jaw, across her lips. Such a delicate face with petal-soft skin.
He kept his touch light, in part because he didn't want to startle her away, but also because she seemed so damned fragile right now in spite of that iron will. He sketched his fingers down her neck, dipping inside her flight suit to trace her collarbone.
Kathleen blinked twice, quickly, as if trying to keep her eyes from sliding closed. As much as he wanted her, he couldn't make himself hurry through the exploration. He needed to touch her. Had to watch her as they stood caught in something stronger than an impulsive kiss.
Her hand drifted up, taking far too long in Tanner's estimation. Finally she touched him back. One finger trailed down his nose, pausing to rub the crooked set. A brief smile played with her lips. Her fingers brushed his hair back from his brow, once, twice, again even though there wasn't a chance his close-cropped head needed it.
Uncertainty whispered from her eyes. "Tanner?"
He prepared himself for the fact he would have to step away. He hadn't prepared himself for the disappointment. And over what? It wasn't as if they were going to crawl into that plane and have sex.
Although the thought held definite appeal.
A bird flapped overhead, and Kathleen stumbled back a step just before the door opened.
Damn. He'd forgotten about his meeting with Crusty and Quinn.
The subcontractor strode inside, brisk, confident, efficient, just the kind of guy Kathleen should want. "Morning, all."
Crusty ambled past, whipping off his sunglasses. "Sorry I'm late. Overslept."
His spiking bed head verified that.
Kathleen's gaze flickered over his squadron scarf sticking half out of his flight suit. Crusty shot her a wink and tucked it in. "Just like old times, huh?"
Tanner didn't need the reminder he could be hanging an old friend out to dry, anymore than he needed the reminder that Kathleen was still wrong for him. Unattainable.
Quinn splayed a hand on the side of the plane and turned to Kathleen. "I didn't expect to see you here today."
"I'm tagging along with Captain Bennett until my toxicology reports are in." She smoothed back a loose strand of hair. "Let's get to work."
As they circled the plane, Tanner interviewed Crusty and Quinn. Tanner couldn't suppress a grin as Kathleen proved herself more than a tagalong, adding astute questions of her own. God, he enjoyed watching her analytical mind wrap itself around a piece of information. Just like that snug braid and the way her mouth tightened when she was holding herself back, her fast thinking challenged the hell out of him.
Kathleen paused by the ramp, turning to Quinn. Her hands gentled over the ragged metal. "Show me where they installed the modification."
Quinn crouched near the ramp and slid his hands along the inside wall of the plane, near the flooring. "It goes right here."
The subcontractor shot her a tolerant smile. Tanner almost laughed out loud. The poor fool underestimated O'Connell. Tanner stood to the side and watched her work.>For now, she needed to focus on safeguarding the investigation. Her promotion recommendation.
And her heart.
Kathleen pulled into the parking lot outside the airplane hangar housing the damaged aircraft. Planes lined the ramp alongside—a row of fighters, another for trainers, then bombers and airlifters. The airlifters belonged to her.
A rogue thought blindsided her. Did she, plain ol' Doc, belong to them? It had been a long time since she'd wanted to belong somewhere. Solitude seemed safer. "Come on, hotshot. Let's get to work."
Without a word Tanner pitched the ice from his cup onto the cement tarmac. He followed her toward the hangar. It loomed large and "boring brown" like every other hangar in the Air Force. The familiarity of the building only drove home the knowledge that this could have happened anywhere, anytime, to anyone of them.
Had, in fact, happened in her world before.
Tanner stopped in front of a smaller door set in the framework of the larger garage-style door. He punched in the combination on the cipher lock.
Inside, the C-17 filled the metal cavern. A bird flapped through the webbing of rafters overhead, startled from its perch by the opening door.